Homespun Bride (10 page)

“Awake?” Noelle stumbled over the word, it surprised her so. “He's all right?”

“Has his wits about him, if that's what you mean—”

The door thudding open against the wall broke off her words. Thad's boots rang on the wood floor. “Noelle, make a list, and I'll take care of your students when I'm back with the doc.”

The door slammed shut before she could answer. He was gone, leaving her wrestling for control of her heart as she hurried upstairs.

 

After he'd alerted the doc, Thad had pressed Sunny into a brisk pace and nosed him toward home. The long ride and the quiet time in the barn as he rubbed down his horse gave him plenty of time to mull things over. By the time Aiden found him, he pretty nearly had things puzzled out.

“You're home.” Aiden stopped in the aisle to give him a grim look. “Didn't see you ride in or I would have come to help you.”

“No need. Almost done here.” Thad released Sunny's rear hoof and stood. “Just need to fetch him a little water.”

“I'll get it.” Gruff, Aiden strode away and said nothing more.

Thad scratched the back of his neck. His brother wasn't in the best of moods and probably for good reason. He patted Sunny on the flank before stepping over the gate bar. When he caught sight of Aiden at the back pump, he headed his brother's way.

“Don't blame you for being mad at me,” he said by way of an apology.

Aiden turned from the pump and shrugged one big shoulder. “Not mad. I'm concerned.”

“Concerned?” That threw him like a wild horse. Thad took the bucket. “Robert woke up this morning. He'll recover from his other injuries.”

“Good to know, but that wasn't what I meant.” Aiden cleared his throat and pushed the barn door closed once they were through. “You're going to get sweet on that Kramer girl again, and that'll be a mistake.”

“No one knows that more than I do.” Thad made his way back to Sunny's stall. “I'm helping out is all.”

“Fine. Christian duty and all that.” Aiden fisted his hands. “How about I take over at the Worthingtons. You hold down the fort here.”

“You? At the Worthingtons?” That was almost laughable. “You know there's nothing but women over there? A cook, a maid, those daughters and Mrs. Worthington?”

“And that Kramer girl.” Aiden quirked one eyebrow as if to give those words special emphasis. “I'm unaffected by her. By any woman. I'd best take over in your stead for a couple of days, at most. I suppose more family are coming to help?”

“Don't know.” Thad smiled at Sunny's nicker and poured a quarter of the bucket into the trough. Sunny took a look at that and shook his head in argument. Thad rubbed his nose. “More later, buddy. I'll come back with some warmed mash for you. Is that acceptable?”

Sunny seemed to consider it and dipped his muzzle into the cool, fresh water.

Satisfied his horse was cared for, Thad left the bucket on the aisle floor and turned to face his brother's displeasure. “I'm not going to make old mistakes.”

“I'm not so sure.”

“Doesn't matter.” Thad grabbed his saddle pack from the rail he'd slung it on and hefted it onto his shoulder. “I've got a duty, is all, Aiden. Surely you understand duty.”

“What I understand is that look in your eye.”

“What look?” Thad shouldered open the side door and barreled out into the harsh weather. He didn't have any look in his eyes. What he had was conviction. He would always do right by Noelle. It was as simple as that.

“Why, Thad!” The lean-to door swung open and there was Ma clutching her shawl closed at her throat and standing in the cold. “You came back. Just when I was starting to worry why we hadn't heard from you.”

“Couldn't keep away from the prettiest ma in all of Montana Territory.”

She sparkled, despite her worrying paleness. “It's good to have you home, son.”

“It's good to be home.” He kissed his mother's cheek and followed her into the lean-to.

“I've got a hot pot of coffee on,” Ma said as she slipped through the kitchen door, where it was warm and snug. “I've got some cinnamon rolls from yesterday's baking. I'll warm those for you boys, too.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Thad said.

Aiden, who stepped in behind him, said the same.

Not wanting to pick up the conversation they'd been having in the barn, Thad kept his back to his brother and stepped around the morning's supply of stacked wood to fit his boots on the bootjack. “What's the news on Finn?”

Aiden didn't say a single word, but Thad could
hear
his scowl, it was such a strong one.

“That bad, huh?” Thunk, went his boot on the floor. Thad fit his other boot in the jack, his foot slipped out and that boot, too, fell loudly in the awkward silence. He bent to retrieve both and set them against the outside wall. “What? He's still coming home, isn't he?”

“Looks that way.” Aiden turned away and thunk, went his boot to the floor. “Ma picked up a letter at the post office yesterday. Finn got himself into some trouble at the prison. A fight of some kind.”

Of course. That boy was more trouble. Thad shrugged off his coat and hung it over a peg before he hiked into the kitchen.

Warmth surrounded him. The golden lamplight and the polished shine of the wood floor and table was a welcome sight, but not more than the view of his ma at the stove. She hummed while she worked in a calico work dress and apron. It felt right being back here after all this time. He'd missed her and his home so much.

Heart brimming, he joined his mother at the stove and took the coffeepot out of her hand. “You're not well enough to be waiting on me. You're supposed to wait for Aiden or me to do the cooking. You know that.”

“Nonsense! I'm your mother. It's my job.” She might argue, but this close, he could see she'd gone from pale to ashen.

“Why don't you sit and let me bring you coffee and rolls?”

“I'm not helpless, young man.” Gently said, and lovingly. “But I won't say no to your offer.”

“Good.” Fixing breakfast had taxed her, he knew. He held out her chair at the table. “You've overdone things, since no one was here to stop you.”

“Oh, you know me. I'm not happy unless my hands are busy.” Ma settled into her chair. “This illness has been a hardship in many ways, but the hardest seems to be all this idleness.”

The door swung open, and Thad went back to the stove. He grabbed three cups by the handles and set them onto the table. By the time he'd returned with the coffeepot, Ma had set the cups in place and Aiden had taken his chair, still scowling.

“How is that nice Kramer girl?” Ma asked, while he poured her cup first.

“Fine enough,” he answered, and shot Aiden a warning look. The subject was one that had to stay closed.

He moved on to Aiden's cup, prepared to set his brother straight if he brought up Noelle again. He'd taken all the hurt he could.

He hardened up his heart, fetched the cinnamon rolls from the oven and let his ma take first pick.

This was his life, this was the way it would always be. Fine enough, he supposed, but never as good, never as vibrant, never as meaningful without her.

T
he parlor clock was striking the noon hour as Noelle counted out four of the everyday plates from the kitchen shelves to be carried in to the table. Henrietta and the girls were upstairs by their father's side, and it was as if the house itself had breathed a sigh of relief. Robert was holding his own. She thought of everything Thad had done for her uncle, protecting him from the bucking mare, bandaging him, staying the night. And now, back in the stables at work after delivering notes to her students, according to Sadie.

Thad. His words kept rolling through her mind.
I'm hoping for a wife one day. Someone who sees life the way I do. You work hard, try to do what's right and at the end of the day rest up for another hard day on the ranch.

“I'm taking a tray up to the missus.” Sadie tapped her way closer. “You're a dear to help me, but you needn't do it.”

“I'm happy to be useful.” She shook all thoughts of Thad from her mind and set the small stack of dishes on the worktable centering the room. She added another plate for him.

“I think he's been out there working with one of those crazy horses.” Sadie's voice made clear her opinion on horses that could not be trusted. “Someone needs to take them in hand, I suppose.”

Thad. The knot in her chest yanked tighter. She did her best to keep her feelings still and slipped another plate from the shelf. The plates clacked together, Sadie's step retreated to the kitchen door and she was alone again. Her mind was a muddle of stray, troubling thoughts. Exhaustion vibrated through her like a plucked cello string. Sadie's steps faded away, leaving her to think about the one man she should not be thinking about.

When she heard Thad's familiar gait coming from the lean-to, she had only a moment to brace herself before the door opened. She wished that her senses did not focus on him even before he stepped into the room. She knew the brush of his movements, the rhythm of his breathing and the beat he took to pause before he spoke. Again, her spirit turned toward him and her traitorous heart followed.

“Messages delivered,” he said with a smile in his voice. “I didn't realize you taught so many students.”

“It surprises even me.” She couldn't say why she was almost smiling back. She shook her head, gathered up her common sense and blamed her reaction to Thad on the fact that she had yet to sleep after being up all night with Henrietta. “Thanks for delivering my messages.”

“I didn't mind, and I got to see more of the countryside.” There was a rustle, as if he were taking off his coat and then hanging it on the hooks by the door. “A lot has changed since I've been away.”

“A lot has stayed the same, too.” She ran her fingertips along the edge of the worktable and followed it to the corner. “Would you like me to get you some coffee? I'd offer you tea, but Cook has commandeered all the kettles for my uncle's medical needs.”

“Is that what that awful smell is?” Thad's wry humor made his baritone more intimate and cozy. “I thought a skunk somehow got loose in the house. I was just about to offer to go hunt it down for you.”

“How gentlemanly of you, but as you can see, we won't be needing your hunting services.” She felt her way along the upper shelf for a cup and found nothing with her fingertips. She went up on tiptoe to search some more. “Is that a yes to coffee? I just helped Cook wash and dry a dishpan of cups. They ought to be here.”

His steps beat near, and she froze as he came close and then closer. Until she could smell the bite of winter wind and fresh snow on his clothes. Until she could remember what it had been like all the times he'd been this close to her.

Memories stirred up like a kick of wind in dust, limiting her clarity, taking her back in time. How safe she'd felt when her hand was tucked snugly within his larger, work-roughened one. How full her heart and soul had been every time he said her name. How her love for him was as endless as a summer's blue Montana sky.

“Here's one, pushed all the way to the back.” His voice rumbled like spring on a late-winter's storm.

Warmly, her heart responded against her will. She took an abrupt step away from him, putting a careful distance between them. Now, if only she could do the same with her feelings. Her throat was tight.

“The rest of the cups are on the drain board, just so you know.”

“Y-yes.” She knew that somewhere in the dust cloud of her mind, but all she could think of was how she wished more than ever that she could see. Just for one glorious moment, that was all, so she could look at the man who made her spirit stir.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” His question was blunt, but his words were kind.

Her hands trembled as she turned to the stove. “It's not easy having you so n-near.”

“I understand. It's a bad wound between us. It's as simple as that. Nothing in the world is going to change that.”

She nodded, unable to agree. Unable to disagree.

“Believe me, the last thing I ever want to do—the last thing I would ever do is hurt you, Noelle. I'll eat in the kitchen and keep my distance from you.”

She had to fight to keep her feelings still. She had to fight not to let her own honesty show.

There he went again, closing the distance between them, leaning near and then nearer as he took the coffeepot from the stove. Ironware clanged against the trivet and his muscled arm brushed against her shoulder. “I don't want you to burn your pretty dress again.”

She blushed. She couldn't help it. Why did she feel so awkward about being near to him? “I don't scorch my skirts every time. Just now and then.”

“I imagine being near a stove is tricky for you.”

“Yes, tricky.”

“Is that your cup on the table? Then I'll fill it, too.” He moved away, already speaking over the sound of coffee pouring. “I stopped home and packed my saddlebags for another night's stay.”

“Not another night out in that cold barn.”

“Only until Robert's out of risk. I wouldn't feel right about leaving you ladies here by yourselves tonight. If all goes well tomorrow, then I'll head home.”

“Th-that's decent of you, Thad.” And more than she expected of him.

The coffeepot landed on the trivet with a clang. “Your uncle is going to be bedridden for awhile. Is there any family you can send off to and ask to come help?”

“I'll m-mention it to Henrietta.”

“I'll pitch in until then.”

No matter how hard she fought against it, she could not keep her emotions still. They rose up like a lump in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore them, praying they would go back down into the dormant place within her heart. “But aren't you needed at home?”

“It's true, I have obligations.” His baritone dipped, low like an invitation to lean and listen.

“What kind of obligations?” The question rolled off her tongue before she could order herself not to ask it.

“I would have thought that you'd heard.”

“Heard what?”

“My younger brother's had some trouble with the law.”

“Finn? Oh, I didn't know.” Noelle choked the words out past the expanding lump in her throat. She swallowed but it refused to budge. “Is it very serious?”

“Serious enough or I would have never come back to help my ma and Aiden out.”

Of course.
His exciting cowboy life. Impossibly, the emotions tangled up in her throat expanded more, and she could not speak.

“Where do you want your coffee?”

“Oh, I can carry it.” She'd never felt so awkward.

“I don't mind. Besides, I filled it awful full.”

“The parlor, then.”

“Follow me.” His steps struck like thunder in the whir of her mind. Somehow she made her feet carry her around the table and through the door, which he held for her.

“I came in to check the wood boxes,” he told her, talking uneasily. So, he did feel the awkwardness between them. “Is there anything else that needs doing? I might as well make myself useful as long as I'm here.”

Throat aching, heart aching, she could only shake her head once in response. His boots were a slow and sure rhythm in contrast to her own.

She almost forgot to count her steps as she left the corner of the dining room table to make the long path to her armchair by the hearth. The familiar cadence of his gait, his scent of hay and winter and horses, the rustle of his movements and the coziness of his presence all sweetly affected her, and against her will.

“On the table by the chair?” he asked.

“Please.” She slipped into her chair.

“There's a Bible on the table, too.” His tone dipped with tender understanding. “You must miss being able to read that.”

“Very much. The Bible was my mother's, and it's a comfort just to have it near.” One of her questions about him rose to the surface like a soap bubble. “I remember you said you're no longer much of a praying man. Why?”

“It's complicated, like most things.”

“Yes, faith is complicated. I wrestled with it for a while after the buggy accident.”

“I imagine so. It's hard to understand why God would let someone as gentle and kind as you be blind.”

Always kind and gentle, that was Thad, too. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him. “I've learned to accept it.”

“Seems to me that would be awful tough.”

“It was for a while, but I'm blessed in so many other ways.” That was a dark time she tried not to think about. She had learned to accept. “Whatever you're struggling with, you should never let anything come between you and God.”

“Don't you go trying to bring me back to my faith. I'll find my way, don't you worry.” His footsteps retreated. “Tell the maid I'll be out in the stables if Robert should need the doc again.”

“Thad?”

“What is it, darlin'?”

“There is one thing you could do for me. There's a sorrel mare in the corner box stall.”

“I know the one. She's a sweet thing. If I don't miss my guess, she'll be foaling in a week or two.”

“Would you keep a careful watch on her? Solitude is special to me.”

There was a moment of silence. “Then you can count on me.”

Was it her imagination or were his words heavy with regret? Or was it sadness? She listened to his steps fade and the kitchen door whisper shut. Even if she sat perfectly still, she could not stop all the ways her heart felt for the man.

And all the ways she didn't.

She reached for her Bible, careful not to disturb the full cup of steaming coffee, and hugged the treasured volume to her.
You can count on me.
Why did Thad's words trouble her? This wasn't the first time he'd said something that seemed to have a deeper layer to it.

The last thing I ever want to do—The last thing I would ever do is hurt you.
His words puzzled her. She could not reconcile Thad's sincerity with the man who'd shattered her heart.

How would a man who had knowingly broken her heart also be the man who stayed to clean the stable, see to the horses, chop wood, run errands and ride for the doctor at a moment's notice? The real truth was that he had always been hardworking and sincere and caring. Except for that one terrible point in time.

The fire popped and crackled, and, exhausted, she laid down her Bible and reached for the bracing cup of coffee. A wave of chatter floated down from upstairs, bringing with it notes of measured happiness and hope.

That happiness could not penetrate her deeper sorrow.

 

Thad put off going into the house as long as he could. He'd scrubbed the water troughs, washed out the feed trays, took note of what feed was running low and even spent some time working with the new mare. She had a long way to go before she was a reliable horse, but he had faith in her.

He especially made sure to keep a careful watch on the expecting mare, as Noelle had requested. He imagined she didn't ride anymore. That was too bad since she loved horses so much.

As he trudged through the snow to the house, he couldn't think of anything else. Only her. She still amazed him. She was more beautiful and as good as ever.

How could love be there all long and he hadn't known it? Against all common sense, he wanted to take care of her and cherish her. Every fiber of his being longed to protect her with all of his devoted heart.

You are a sorry case, Thaddeus McKaslin, he thought as he beat the snow off the steps. Hadn't Aiden said it?
You're going to get sweet on that Kramer girl again, and that'll be a mistake.

And what had he told his brother?
No one knows that more than I do.

It didn't seem as if he knew that now. No, the past and its mistakes and pain seemed to be forgotten whenever he was with Noelle. It was a mistake to let himself care about her again. Plain and simple.